


Don't We Make What We Can?

by antichristqueen



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antichristqueen/pseuds/antichristqueen
Summary: Oswald dies at the hands of Edward at the docks. He wakes up in a different reality where he's died and Ed has brought him back with Strange's assistance. Oswald struggles with his new reality.





	1. What's dead should stay dead

**Author's Note:**

> Technical Character death but obviously Oswald refuses to stay dead.  
> Tumblr: Terriblehare

Oswald was sinking. He can’t see, unsure if it’s his own blood clouding the water and obscuring his vision, or it could be the fact that he’s dying. His sight narrowing until all he sees is black. He can’t help but focus on Ed and how he’s the cause of Oswald’s final predicament. The truly terrible thing, the one thought that sticks in the forefront of his mind, is how he’ll never see him again. He’s the cause of all his pain and all he can think is how he can never fix the frown that he caused on Ed’s face. 

Time is nonexistent now. One moment seeming to stretch on forever. His lungs are burning, the only thing capable of taking his attention away from the deep throbbing pain radiating from his gut and coursing through the rest of his body. The reality that he’ll drown before he’ll bleed out jump starts whatever is left of his survival instinct. Attempting to coordinate his limbs into something resembling swimming. All he manages is a sad jerking motion through his limbs. His wet suit weighs his limbs down; blood loss and lack of air has taken it’s toll on his body. Pain is all he is aware of, all he can think of. It’s always about pain.

He isn’t sure exactly when he gains consciousness, he wasn’t sure when he lost it in the first place. He is aware of pain, through his stomach and leg, his head throbbing worse than any other headache he could ever remember having. He opens his eyes and the lights are blinding and he quickly shuts them tightly. Attempting to speak is another futile mistake, all he’s able to accomplish is a pathetic squeak. Taking the time to breathe and assess, his vision is clearing slowly. He finally notices that he’s not alone. A tall figure is leaning over the cold metal table Oswald is lying on. Disturbingly close, immediately putting Oswald further on edge. He realizes how vulnerable his position is lying naked and injured on some table. His vision clears further and finally the reality hits him. Edward Nygma is the man currently standing over him. A grin spread over his face and his eyes glinting in the harsh fluorescent light. It’s quite the sight to behold. Before Oswald passes back out he can only think about the vast improvement Ed’s smiling face is compared to the deep scowl that Penguin had seen on him last through the bloody waters at the dock.


	2. Infinite Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed POV

Ed can’t believe it worked. Although he wanted it to work, needed it to work, he left no room in his head for any other possible outcome. He simply couldn’t be without Oswald and yearned for the moment they would be reunited. But even then with all his desperation and commitment he can’t believe that the moment is finally here! Oswald currently sleeps on fitfully, he’s been moved to a more comfortable surface than the work table, an old gurney fitted with pillows and blankets. Ed can’t stand to be away from him, he’s been so patient waiting for Oswald’s return. He isn’t sure where Strange has gone to, so caught up in the science behind the re-animation of Oz. He’s sure Strange is off cataloguing every minúte detail of Oswald’s resurrection.

He’s bone tired yet his mind just won’t quit, so focussed on Oswald all this time he’s had no time for rest. Getting Oswald back has been his utmost priority, any sort of self care nowhere near his radar. He would do anything for Oz. He refuses to sleep now though. Oswald is only arm’s reach away. Breathing, each breath so very precious Ed will never take it for granted again.  
  
Hours pass and Ed stands to attention, Oz starts to jerk around more violently than before. He’s waking up! Ed can hardly contain himself. It’s better than all his childhood Christmases rolled up all in one. Although, that wouldn’t be hard to beat. His eyes open and this time they stay open. He groans and tries to sit up but he must be too weak. Death does a terror on the body. Ed jerks to Oswald’s side and pulls him up to prop him up against some pillows. His warmth fills Ed up with glee. All he wants is to hold onto to Penguin and never let go. His happiness is short lived, the man in his arms immediately jerks away from his touch.

“Don’t touch me!” Oswald’s voice is cracking he needs water, Ed’s sure the man must be dehydrated. He quickly moves to grab the cup of water beside Oz, angles the straw towards his mouth. He drinks deeply and finishes the cup. His reaction with Edward isn’t surprising, but nevertheless is disappointing. He wondered how much Oz would remember of his death once brought back. He has every right to be angry, after all Ed did ignore the warning signs with Isabella. He sacrificed Oz with his own ignorance, all to get a piece of love, and what bitter irony that in the end Ed would lose the person he truly loved over a mirage who had paled in comparison. All Isabella was was a snake in the grass lying in wait to strike.

Ed tries to meet his eyes with Oswald’s, “I don’t know how much you remember, but I understand why you’re upset with me and you have every right to be. I was a fool and I didn’t listen to you. I got you hurt and I’ll never forgive myself.”

Oswald’s eyes widen, his face flushes instantly, “I remember everything! I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I refuse to continue to be lied to!”

Oswald attempts to move off the bed, Ed quickly pushes him back down.

“I understand you’re upset, but please be mindful of your stitches,” He’s fussing with the blankets when Oz laughs sharply.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to aggravate the bullet wound you gave me, now would we?”

Now he knows something is wrong with Oz, “You’re confused, no one shot you.” Before his sentence is even complete the Penguin is shirking with rage.

“You did! You shot me. I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I want out. You’ve had your fun at my expense and I refuse to take part in my own abuse anymore.”

He doesn’t understand what he’s hearing. Obviously Oswald is having some adverse effects from being brought back. Ed can deal with this. He’s a problem solver. He plans to strangle Strange at the end of all of this but for now he needs Strange to get his head out of his ass, appear out of whatever hole he disappeared off to, and assist him with Oswald right now.

Ed tries to make his voice as smooth and comfortable as possible, “Let’s agree that you’re hurt right now. You’re in a lot of pain and I can administer some pain reliever to help with that. I need you to remain calm.”

Oswald jumped to interrupt but Ed continued. “I know you’re angry and rightfully so, but you’ve been through alot right now and you need to heal may we talk after you’ve rested?”

He could see the thoughts pass over Oswald’s face, none of them particularly pleasant, until finally he seemed to accept the brittle terms with a terse nod. Ed rushed to get the medication before Oz could change his mind. One quick injection later and Oswald was out for the count, freeing Ed to search for Dr. Strange.

The basement of Arkham is a labyrinth, even with all his time here assisting Strange, he hasn't been able to truly get the lay of the land. He can't possibly imagine why the asylum would ever need such a vast and complicated layout, it seems as if the main purpose is to keep the mentally unwell stuck roaming within Arkham’s bowels. He can't help but remember that he himself was once a member of those unfortunate few, a giggle makes its way out of his mouth.

He's sure he's passed the same dusty stack of boxes before. The longer it takes to locate the Doctor the more irate Ed becomes. After some stumbling around in the dim corners he finds Strange in a room half concealed by a fallen file cabinet. His pace quickens till he's look down into brown eyes.

Strange had hunkered down in an old office scribbling away his leather bound notebook. The doctor stares up from his chair.

“What now? I've given you back your precious Penguin, I'm busy now.”

How dare he! Ed has worked too hard and come too far to let Strange’s ego get in the way of what he needs.

His voice takes a hard edge, all his patience reserved for the slumbering man a few rooms away, “Something's wrong with him. You need to fix it.”

Strange’s attention has gone back to his notes, dismissing Ed.  
“I told you bring a person back from the dead isn't cut and dry, especially one that's been dead as long as he has. I warned you that what I brought back may just be a shell of the man you knew. You took the risk and you've got your reward. Now leave me be.”

Ed snapped quickly to action, pulled the doctor’s chair closer, leaned down until they were of the same height, and his breath ghosted over Strange.

“We had an agreement that you would help me. Whoever said you were done? You're not done until I'm satisfied and right now I'm very far from it.”

Strange sat still, eyes unblinking. “What seems to be the matter with him?”

Satisfaction blooms in his gut, he stands back up from his crouch and answers, “His memories are wrong.”

Strange snaps, “I told you memory lapse is common for the recently reanimated!”

“You're not listening. It's not that he doesn't remember more like he has an entirely different recollection all together.”

Strange’s eyebrow twitches upward, “Now that's intriguing. What does Penguin recollect?”

“He thinks I shot him. He's quite angry about it.”

He nods, “He was stabbed by your girlfriend correct?”

Ed sighs deeply, they've been over this a thousand times. “Yes, he was stabbed by one of your very own creations, Ms. Kringle or as you liked to call her Isabella.”

When Strange answers back Ed is grinding his jaw. Certain memories should shrivel and die not haunt your mind forever.

“I have an idea of what may have happened, but I'll need to speak with him before I can be certain.”

“I had to put him to sleep, he was so upset he was going to rip his stitches.” Ed’s glad to keep Oz safe, but he wants answers to this now. He needs a solution.

“Then there's nothing I can do at this moment. Now if I may get back to my notes I must document Penguins case for it has been quite the experience.” He's already gone back to his notes before Ed could reply.

He makes his way back, Easier now to navigate back to Oswald’s bedside. His rightful place beside him. He's fuming at the possibility that he's messed up. That he wasn't able to right the egregious wrong that was Penguin’s death. He watches the subtle rise and fall of the sleeping man’s chest and vows to himself that even if he can never have Oz the way he was before that he'll never abandon him. He'll be by his side in whatever capacity is needed.

When Oz finally wakes Dr. Strange is eager to speak with him. His gaze from his bed hard on Ed, unblinking. Oz refuses to answer any questions with Ed in the room. Refuses to speak at all. He's sent away by Strange, left to his own devices Ed rages.

The moment Strange steps away from Oswald, Ed corners him in his makeshift office, far away enough from Oz that he doesn't worry about being overheard.

Strange has one corner of his face slightly upturned as if he's fighting a full grin. It's his eyes that betray him though they're alive and excited.

“What's going on with him? What went wrong?” Ed’s eagerness is palpable.

Strange sighs exasperated once again; that doesn't deter Ed he’s used to exhausting his peers, “I believe that nothing is wrong with him.”

Ed’s furious he opens his mouth wide, retort ready on his tongue. Strange doesn't stop though and continues unjarred.

“I'm still learning about my methods of reviving the deceased. It's a delicate process: uniting mind and body. It seems that consciousness isn't as straightforward as I perceived. It galvanizes the multiverse theory. Infinite possibilities, infinite choices, all leading to parallel universes coinciding consecutively branching off into multiple worlds. Oswald is a special case, when we revived his body his consciousness seems to have come from a universe different from our own. Where an Edward Nygma shot him instead of being stabbed by resurrected Kristin Kringle.”

By the end of his rant Ed is sure Strange has completely lost it he has a full grin on his face unable to hide it any longer. He’s deriving joy out of this. Every minute of Ed’s misery is ambrosia to the doctor.

“Then we’ll get the right consciousness.” Ed shouts it.

“Don't be purposefully dense Mr. Nygma if there are infinite universes then there could be limitless Oswalds. You could kill and revive Oswald for the rest of your life and never get the “correct” one.”

Ed is sick at the thought of it. Even if he was guaranteed his own Oswald he would never be able to kill one in order to get him. The universe’s sick joke on him. Ed was willing to do anything to get the Penguin back, anything except kill him. He runs to Oz he needs to talk to him. Make him remember who he really is and forget this alternate Oswald concept all together.

Oz startles when Ed busts into the room. He's reclined on an old gurney, wincing while pulling himself up further on his pillows as Ed walks closer.

“How are you feeling?” He can’t help but inquire to Penguin’s health. He gets a sneer in response.

“Stop just stop Ed. You've had your fun with me and even roped Strange along with your wicked scheme. I refuse to fall for it. You must think me a complete idiot to fall for something so idiotic.”

So the doctor must have shared the theory with his patient. He's not surprised at the refusal to believe, he can't believe in it either. Yet Oz words are so full of anger and hate that Ed can't help but believe in Strange’s ridiculous theory.

Ed steps closer to the gurney, “Please you have to believe I Lo—”

Ed isn't able to finish Oz wails in fury. Angrier than Ed has ever seen him. Spitting words out of his mouth, “Don't you dare say that to me! That's enough! This has always been your problem Ed, you never know when to stop playing the game. You had plenty of chances to off me, but now you've chosen to revive me only to torture me! I'm afraid I have to be the one to break it to you Edward. I am already broken. This is your attempt to break what has already been shattered. It's a waste of my time and yours”

His body is shaking violently, heaving atop the gurney.

Ed runs.

He ends up in an abandoned bathroom. Grime coats the walls and floor. He squats in a corner and sobs.

Edward is devastated, faced with vitriol from the most important person in his world. For the past year all he could focus on was getting Penguin back. Reuniting them so they could finally find happiness in one another like they were meant to. He expected some anger from Oz. He wasn't completely delusional, After all it was Ed who caused his untimely demise, too blinded by obsession to see that Isabella was one gigantic warning sign. Fitting that she would be the end of Oswald, the only person to ever truly care for Ed murdered at the hands of a woman who never truly loved Ed at all.

Of course she didn't love you. Look at yourself cowering in the corner like a child. Not even a mother could love you it's why ours didn't

Ed pulled his knees tighter to his chest. Hoping to ignore the voice in his head. Tears flowing faster than before.

Oswald is smart enough to know he should rid himself of you permanently. Why waste his second chance on the likes of you?

Ed stood abruptly hands covering his ears while he rushed to the dust covered mirror.

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

He shattered the mirror with his fist. Shards fell to the ground around him. Bloody reflections stared back at him laughing while he wept.

 

Edward wakes up on a dirty bathroom floor. His body curled tightly in the fetal position. When he unfurls his limbs they ache. He fell asleep clenched, every muscle tensed in misery. Standing is agony, his joints pop and groan. His throats feels raw, face puffy. His right hand bleeding at the knuckles from punching the mirror hours before.

He turns to the faucet, washes the blood from his hands and washes his face. Tried cleaning himself up as much as he can. He live to go home and take a proper shower, but he doesn't trust Strange completely alone with Oswald.

Oz is all he can think about. Ed came to a conclusion during his breakdown. It doesn't matter that The Oz that Ed brought back may not be his precisely, he’s Ed responsibility now. If it's true that the Edward that belonged to this Oswald shot him, then he didn't deserve him at all. Ed is glad to take the role, to cherish this Oswald as he should have been, after all every Riddler needs a Penguin


	3. Minor Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oswald's POV

Oswald is furious, he’s trapped in the bowels of Arkham, his least favorite hole in Gotham. He’s had to deal with Professor Strange, which has prompted a trip down memory lane that he neither asked for nor wants. He may not be strapped down this time, but he is a prisoner all the same. The condition of his stomach halt any immediate plan of a breakout. He’s forced to bide his time until an appropriate course of action can be taken. Until then, he is at the mercy of Nygma, whatever scheme he has against Oswald is convoluted to say the least. He doesn’t appreciate being underestimated, his height, his limp, his looks, but those who were foolish enough to think themselves better than him have always been proven wrong. Oswald Cobblepot always gets the last laugh. 

Ed thinking him to be credulous enough as to believe that he didn’t shoot him on the docks. That he wasn’t betrayed by his best friend. Ed acts as if he can take back those harsh words, the denouncement of him. It’s isn’t just that Ed wasn’t in love with him, Penguin could understand that, it’s a bitter pill to swallow but he could understand it. What he can’t understand is the complete betrayal, Ed shot him. He must not have loved him at all, in any way if he was capable of hurting him so deeply. Ed wanted him dead and that isn’t easy to forget. There was a moment after he woke up, Ed seemed so genuinely happy looking at him, he can’t believe that Ed hurt him. 

His brain can’t reconcile Ed on the docks, gun in his hand, angry and filled with hate, with the man standing by his bed, adoring gaze directed at him. His brief encounters with Dr. Strange lead him to believe that this is all being orchestrated by Ed. Strange reeks of nefarious doing, his involvement all but confirms Nygma’s true motives. He must want Oswald to suffer, decided a quick death at the docks wasn’t enough, his betrayals must not have cut deep enough for his liking. Oz refuses to be taken for a fool yet again, he’s waiting for just the right moment to get out of Ed’s clutches. 

 

His talk with Strange went oddly enough, he had asked Oswald to recount his recollections of events dating back to when he was Strange’s patient and had asked even more about the events surrounding his injuries. After the man had left him alone again he snuck a peek at his stomach. Pulled back his blankets and peeled off his bandages. What he found had shocked him, it wasn’t just one scar he was expecting to find. He’s been shot before and the scar looked nothing like this. Long ragged cuts littered his abdomen. The stitches reminded him of a teddy bear he had when he was very little. It had gotten ripped apart in the wash and he cried and cried until his mother had stitched it back together. Long jagged seams up and down the teddy bear’s body. Oswald had loved that bear, now it seems he had grown up to be just like that bear. 

The door bursts open and Ed walks in, long strides. He’s pushing an old wheelchair, one squeaky wheel. 

“Hope you’ve gotten some rest because it’s time to go,” Ed stops by Oswald’s side. 

Oz pushes himself up on the gurney, “If you think I’m going anywhere with you then you should really have Strange check your head.” 

The grin stays on Ed’s face, “Listen I don’t blame you for being on guard. We have a lot of...things to work through, but I don’t think this is the best place to do that. So we’re going to get you dressed and wheel you out of here.”

“Absolutely not! It’s bad enough I have to be here, I’m not letting you take me anywhere else.” Oswald is yelling now, indignantly. 

“Sure, you can stay here and try your chances with Strange…” Ed trailed off.

Oswald sighed, a choice between Strange and Edward wasn’t a choice at all. 

“Fine.”

Ed moved around the small basement room. Pulled out a black robe and returned to Oswald’s side. He moved to help put it on but Penguin shrugged him off. 

“I can do it,” He struggled but was able to pull his arms through the sleeves of the robe unassisted. 

“Now for the hard part, excuse me Mr. Penguin, but you will be needing help for this one.” Edward immediately slid his arms under Oswald’s back and knees lifting him from the gurney and depositing him in the chair. Two things occurred during his time in Edward’s arms. The first, was a yelp that he will deny to his dying day, and the second, was a subtle sound of sniffing form Ed. Almost as if Nygma was smelling him. Oswald didn’t know what to think of it. 

“I didn’t hurt you did I? I didn’t mean to surprise you, I just figured you’d fight me on getting into the wheelchair and we are on a time crunch. Strange is out of the building and I’d like to get out of here before he gets back.” Ed was fussing with a blanket he draped over Oswald’s lap. 

“I’m fine, no need for your faux mother-henning” Oswald rolled his eyes, “I thought you were all buddy-buddy with Strange? Why the sudden distrust?” 

Ed had moved behind him, holding the handles on the chair. Oswald was forced to twist his neck to maintain eye contact. 

“Needs must, Strange was an unavoidable part of my plan. However, now that his use has come to an end I’m loathe to press our luck. He’s obsessed with his ‘experiments’ I don’t doubt that he would try to keep you for his own reasons.” 

Oswald ran though Ed’s statement in his head again, he was puzzled about a lot of things. Strange’s involvement was troublesome in and of itself. His understanding of the situation was shaky. He didn't die! Edward must be lying, but a traitorous thought popped into his head: what if Nygma was telling the truth? His stomach was throbbing and he didn't want to deal with this anymore. 

“If you don’t trust Strange why use him? You could have used any doctor? It must have been really hard to find him in the first place?” 

Ed Straightened up behind Oswald, “Strange was crucial for this. I know you have a lot of questions, and my answers are going to be hard to hear. Right now we really need to leave. So if you let me get us out of here I promise I’ll answer your questions later.” 

Oswald took a moment to think about it, he wanted answers now, everything so far has been so odd he wasn’t comfortable trusting Ed right now. Alas, Oz had no other viable options. With a sigh he turned forward in the chair and allowed himself to be wheeled out of the room. 

The basement was a labyrinth, piling boxes and old equipment littering the halls. Ed made his way through and they ended up in what seemed to be an old loading dock. They stopped in front of an old freight elevator that had seen better days, cobwebs and dust decorated the interior. Ed wheeled him in, manually shut the sliding door, and set the thing in motion. It jerked to life, slowly pulling them upward while the gears squeaked to life. 

When the lift finally stopped moving Ed pushed open the doors which lead directly outside, it took notably more effort than before, pushing against the wind as it whipped both their faces and made Penguin grateful for the blanket, not that he would mention it to the other man. Snow piled on the ground and whipped around them in the air. He spotted a single black car in the secluded alley. Ed pushed Oz toward it. The journey was made difficult by the ice covered ground. The wheels getting caught every step or so, but Nygma never complained just steadily pushed on toward the car. 

Finally they reached the car Ed unlocked the doors, opened the back door and turned back toward Oz. 

“Sorry to have to do this to you again but needs must.” Ed moved to pick Oz up again in a bridal carry. He didn't fight it and leaned into Ed’s embrace. It troubles him just how much he likes being in Ed’s arms. He’s disgusted with himself, apparently his body’s survival instinct must be faulty, he is a animal being fattened up before the slaughter,yet he continues to take comfort from Edward’s hands. 

Ed sets him gently onto the seat, tucking his blanket around him yet again. They’re both avoiding eye contact. Ed shuts the door softly, walks around the car, feet crunching in the snow, and gets into the driver’s seat. 

He starts the car and cranks the heat, angling the vents toward Oz. They drive out of Arkham easily enough, a brief pause at the gate for the guards to pass them through. Within the guard booth he spots a guard giving Ed a nod, he files this information away to question Ed about later. 

As Ed drives Oz notices his eyes staring at him through the rearview mirror, he ignores the weight of his stare. 

The route becomes familiar to Oswald, they're headed home to the mansion. He relaxes a bit, all he wants is to go home, take a bath, wear his own clothes, and relax. The Nygma situation is something he has to put off mentally, he’s at an impasse with Ed. His body aches far too much to deal with the current scheme Edward has cooked up for him. 

The mansion finally comes into view. As they move up the driveway Oz notices the tension in Ed. The man is stock still, he puts the car in park. The silence in the car is causing Oz’s ears to ring. Dread tightens his gut. 

Finally Ed breaks the silence, “I just wanted to...well I just want to warn you I haven’t been in the house in awhile. I wish I had it cleaned up before we came, but i wasn’t even sure Strange would have worked out…: Ed trails off. 

Oswald is too tired to even start another argument with Ed over this nonsense. He keeps his quiet. 

Ed hops out of the car and walks around to Oz’s door. Oz is back in Ed’s arms quickly blanket and all. Ed walks toward the door, if he has any problems holding Oz’s weight he isn’t letting on. 

Ed shifts Oz in his arm so he can open the door, immediately Oz is hit with the smell of stale musk and dust. It’s dark inside, but Ed makes his way through the place with ease. They end up in the sitting room with the fireplace. Ed sets him down on the couch and gets to work making a fire. The mansion is cold and Oz realizes his teeth are chattering. He pulls tighter at the blanket, his eyes examine the room. Every piece of furniture is caked with dust. It isn’t adding up, mentally. It hasn’t been this long, he was home a few days ago. It shouldn’t look like this not so soon. The cracks in his foundation began to deepen. 

Ed makes a gleeful noise, finally getting the fire lit. Completely unaware of the turmoil Oz is going through a few feet away. It isn’t until he turns around to look back at Oz that he senses the change of tone in the room. 

Oz is panting heavily, he doesn’t want to believe what Ed has been saying. Even with his wounds he doesn’t want to believe that Ed actually killed him. He never made it out of the water alive. Ed killed him at the docks. 

“I’m sure now is the time to talk.” Ed sighs. He moves out of the room and quickly comes back with a newspaper in his hands. He sits next to Oswald on the couch the parallel to the time Ed and Oz sat together after Butch had strangled Ed. They had been so close then, but now there were oceans between them. 

He’s quiet, the only sound in the room is Oswald’s heavy breathing. 

“I know this is going to be hard to believe, you died over a year ago.” Ed hands the newspaper over to Oz. The articles are inconsequential but the date is what matters. When Oz reads it he breaks. A wail echoes through the house. Two years, he’s been dead for two years. Edward Nygma, the man he loves, killed him. The realization is heavy in his chest, he can’t get air into his lungs. The spasming of his diaphragm is painful. It feels like he’s drowning all over again. Pins and needles in his lungs. His stitches are throbbing. He’s cold, and he can’t breathe. His best friend killed him, he’s lost two years. 

He’s mildly aware of Ed pulling him into his lap, mindful of his bad leg. He runs his hands in circles around Oz’s back, attempting to soothe him. He cries for what has to be hours, his face hot and wet with tears. Ed holds him the entire time and well after Oz falls asleep.


End file.
